


to say that we're in love is dangerous (but girl i'm so glad we're acquainted)

by saltyvenus



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BUT. u catch a lil feelings, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hook-Up, Lesbian Sex, Mentioned BLACKPINK, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Strap-Ons, Swearing, Top Park Chaeyoung | Rosé, bottom reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29267094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyvenus/pseuds/saltyvenus
Summary: you have a ‘small’ run in with blackpink’s rosé.
Relationships: Park Chaeyoung | Rosé/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 62





	to say that we're in love is dangerous (but girl i'm so glad we're acquainted)

**Author's Note:**

> rosé is blonde here bc….blondsé supremacy 
> 
> enjoy my lovelies!!!!
> 
> title: acquainted - the weeknd

meeting rosé goes as followed:

somehow, you’ve ended up crouched on top of the stairs leading up to the nightclub that your,  _ very persistent _ , ‘friend’ slash roommate dragged you to for the evening. of course, it wouldn’t be a cliche if she  _ hadn’t _ ditched you the rest of the night because she’s one of those girls and loves to have fun.

you, however, are not one of those girls. you don’t like partying in big crowds and drinking or drugs don’t seem to entice you one bit - something about wanting to salvage your liver and lungs is much more desirable than not, yet your friend just can’t wrap her head around your ideologies. 

the bass is way too loud, obviously, it’s a nightclub, but every time someone opens the door to exit, you are hit with a wave of white noise that you’re sure will grant you a good week of ear damage. maybe more, if the shitty trap music doesn’t cease. 

your thin jacket does you no favors against the freezing night air, especially with your strapless dress underneath that leaves  _ nothing _ to the imagination and your poor bare shoulders. ultimately, this could be the worst day in your entire life, having unpaid rent because your friend is irresponsible or even almost getting evicted can’t compare to being stranded outside of a random club in the middle of an unfamiliar street with no ride back home or cash. 

sighing, you lean back against the step, wishing you had just listened to your gut and stayed in bed, tightening your hold around your useless jacket when an unpleasant gust of cold wind cuts right through you, and you shiver pathetically. 

“it’s a bit chilly to be out here, don’t you think?” someone speaks behind you, it doesn’t even cross your mind that it’s directed to  _ you _ , so many people have walked by in the few hours you’ve been stranded outside that you tune everyone out immediately. it isn’t until you realize there’s actually no one else, you can tell from your heavy breathing and the person’s presence looming over you, that you decide to reply. talking it up with strangers wasn’t so uncommon around here, most people are more on the friendly side.

you shrug, unbothered. “it’s whatever. nothing i can’t handle.”

she laughs, you imagine a smile on her face, maybe she’s drunk and just wants to make small talk, as if you’re in any state to do so. you’re definitely tired and bored, that’s for sure. “right, tonight is the coldest night this week. i’m sure you don’t want to get sick.” 

_ accent _ . like most things that have happened in the span of this sole minute, you didn’t notice. maybe the cold temporarily blocked your brain or something, because there’s one thing for sure, is that you aren’t thinking straight at all. not that you ever thought straight in the first place, men never interested you, but it is hindered severely. her australian accent, however, is one factor that peaks your interest. you think, no, you  _ have _ to look at her now.

“i’m sure.” you mumble, tilting your head around to finally see your chatting buddy, if she does have a smile on her face like you pondered, if she is actually drunk and decided that you were going to be her conquest for the night, or if she is a random bimbo seeking companionship for a couple hours. 

you’re not completely wrong, though, she has a bright grin, despite the weather being below average temperature and your blatant sulkiness, topped off with your reluctance to listen to her worries about illness. god, were you always this annoying? no wonder your friend ditched you, there should really be a line between being boring and straight up  _ soulless. _

but, this woman isn’t just beautiful, she’s drop dead gorgeous and you know that for a fact because you’ve seen her in magazines and interviews...and literally everywhere - she isn’t a part of the biggest girl group in the world for nothing. there’s nothing more that you want to do other than scream, or cry, probably both, as blackpink’s rosé stands in front of you.

and, quite frankly, you should have recognized it right away from her sweet voice. there aren’t many australians around yet it is such a chance that rosé,  _ the _ rosé, happened to be at the same nightclub you dreaded going to. 

“ah,” you breathe out, vapor leaving your lips as you do so, like an  _ idiot _ . she’s even prettier in real life, like any other basic human being with eyes would say, though it’s so obnoxiously true. her appearance glows regardless of the situation, however she must’ve not been in the club for too long, there isn’t a single sweat or flush on her body.

what is on her body, furthermore, is a huge fur coat covering her nicely, saint laurent, no doubt, and you wished that was you so badly. 

rosé comes a little closer towards you, crouching slightly so that she is at eye level. you can see all the imperfections that she doesn’t have, when her face is mere inches from yours, it isn’t far fetched that not a single flaw graces her skin. she is rosé after all. 

“i really don’t want you to get cold.” rosé expresses her concerns, and you think it’s usual for her to be like this - good natured and kind hearted. that’s just who she is. you wished that  _ she _ was with you from the beginning instead of your traitor friend. at least rosé cares. 

you swallow, from the cold etching at your throat but also because having rosé near you makes it harder to breathe. you don’t want to inhale and exhale too quickly in fear of her becoming weirded out by your uneven oxygen intake. “how sweet of you.”

“i’m serious.” rosé says, inching near. “let me take you home.” 

it feels too fabricated to be true, rosé offering you some sort of peace from your awful night, but the way she looks so certain about her choices, how she is so set on keeping you safe, you nearly...can’t deny her.

“i don't want to go back home.”

rosé then stands up, shrugging her coat off of her shoulders. she’s wearing a black turtleneck underneath, one you don’t think you’ve ever seen her wear in interviews or her instagram photos or such, yet it fits her amazingly. rosé dumps the coat onto you, warmth regenerates back into your body very quickly. you don’t even complain.

“come home with me, babe. i’ll keep you warm enough.” rosé grins once more, her hand reaching out to you from above, like a hopeful savior in your light. 

“i…” you hesitate, even when her fingers look terribly inviting and you’re beyond doubt that they’re just a bundle of fresh comfort. “what about your manager?” you wouldn’t want people following you around, cameras flashing in your face, microphones being shoved to your mouth as paparazzi pester you about being rosé from blackpink’s new  _ girl _ . 

though, the thought of it makes you slightly giddy. 

rosé laughs at your delay, like you imagine she always does. “i came here alone. now, let’s go.” her hand clasps around your own, fitted perfectly like a tight glove. “i’ll call an uber.”

that’s how you met rosé, cold and huddled under her massive fur coat, her bright smile saving you from your night of disaster and impeding thoughts about dying of hypothermia in the middle of the street. 

now, you emit more heat than you can possibly imagine as she straddles your body, and as you embarrassingly melt below her.

“fuck, you’re so hot.” she whispers, breath coming out in small pants when her lips connect to your all too eager neck, there’s no way you’re hotter than whatever the hell is coming out of her mouth right now, especially in her, to  _ die for _ , voice. 

rosé’s been eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat ever since leaving the nightclub, you must say, it did give you an ounce of satisfaction that you were able to make a girl like  _ rosé  _ turn heads, let alone have her all wet and sticky up against you. 

“rosé..” your fingers grips her toned back, bare except for her dark red lacy bra and equally lacy panties, much like yourself, but with all black undergarments instead, which definitely compliments her pale skin, like blood splashed onto white bed sheets, and you find yourself spiraling further and further into her intoxicating aura. 

“shh..” her mouth comes back to yours, swallowing all the words you want to say, to utter, amidst the tension in rosé’s grand bedroom. everything is placed strategically, from the guitars in the corner, to her shelf of presents that were gifted to her by fans, the tiny, intimate photograph on the wall with jennie, lisa and jisoo, framed with black and pink glass. their eyes stare at you in the dark. 

it causes your mind to wander off. not by much, only by the slight minimum as you really take in your surroundings.

“i want to wreck you.” it is but a murmur, yet your stomach flutters beyond reach at rosé’s desperate words. she stops her ministries for just a moment to peer into your hard eyes, a pure softness behind her own that is so typically rosé. it brings you back. “would you let me?” her contrasting tone, compared to her curious hands along your body, genuinely makes you giggle.

she is truly one of a kind; roseanne park is such an enigma.

“of course.” you lightly peck her red lips when you catch her already staring down there. “you can raw me.”

it is now rosé’s turn to chuckle, as she hops off of you, much to your minimal dismay of heat loss again, and opens up a drawer in her nightstand. there, she pulls out an obscene object, what it is, is hard to make out in the dark, the shape of it can almost give it away, you think, if the moonlight seeping from rosé’s pink silk curtains hits it just right. 

then rosé slips it on. you wonder how it took you so long to realize she was in the middle of tightening the harness to a dildo, protruding coarsely from her legs. you were right, when the natural light hits...a huge red, (rosé’s definitely keeping to her namesake, first the red panties and the curtains, now this, you applaud her for her commitment) strap on appears. she hovers over you like she did previously, seemingly, reading your mind as your thoughts generate about the size of the toy.

“9 inches. can you take it?” her dark brow raises, like she’s asking a casual question, not as if your guts were about to potentially be destroyed by a piece of plastic. 

“i..uhm..” well, it’s safe to say it’s larger than any other strap-on you’ve taken, especially with the veins sticking out from the sides, and the way the toy stiffly stands up straight like it were a real penis. “i..don’t think it’ll... fit, rosé.”

noticing your hesitation, rosé leaves an all too gentle kiss on your already sweaty forehead, one that makes you flush embarrassingly. one that makes you thankful for the dim room.

“it’s alright, baby. i’ll make it fit.”

if the butterflies inside you weren’t churning before, they certainly were now. although only knowing rosé for a few hours, her being a celebrity  _ doesn’t _ count, you know that she would do everything in her power to make you feel comfortable, for fucks sake, she took you home because you were having a shitty night! 

but hearing her dirty talk, spewing straight from her lips, spewing straight into an australian accent, turns you into someone who is  _ way _ too willing to be fucked whilst trying to not seem way too willing.

“okay.” you reply, lying down on the bed as rosé lifts your hips closer to her and her excited toy. a lonely finger trails its way underneath the band of your underwear, shifting through the thin patch of hair you have down there. 

“you’re drenched.” you know. if only you were wearing panties of a different color, a huge wet spot would have been gladly presented. lucky for you, your distaste in bright things proved to be quite useful. however it doesn’t stop rosé from teasing your soaked hole. “i need to see if you’re tight enough for me.”

and smoothly does her finger sink in. 

“tight.” her tongue sticks out the side of her mouth which you find so painfully adorable. “very tight.”

“yeah.” you breathe. fingers don’t phase you, after all, it’s just another thing to stick up there, it enters easily and does the job well. rosé can tell. the idea of something bigger than her finger entering you, on the other hand, only stirs a wave of strain. “it’s tight for you.”

“come here, let me kiss you.” 

your lips find each other naturally as rosé pulls her finger out, dragging your underwear down with it, causing you to groan against her teeth, instead, spreading your legs further to make room for the massive toy. naturally, you’re certain that rosé is kissing you to distract you from this fact, rough but sweet at the same time, with the way she bites your lip but smooches it after. kinder than anyone you’ve ever been with. 

you part, dreadfully, and rosé’s hand clasps around the dildo, guiding it to your dripping entrance. 

“it’s going to go in, and it’s going to hurt. but afterwards i’ll fuck you so good, baby.” rosé warns, her sultry voice encouraging you to suck it up and take the plastic cock when it perches right between your walls. “ready?”

you nod slowly, giving rosé another quick open mouthed kiss, she moves her hips so that the strap on finally slips inside. the tip barely makes it in before you hiss, gripping the other woman’s forearms for support. you do feel a little bad when your nails dig into rosé’s skin and she inhales a sharp breath at the string. you retract your tight hold, afraid of further ruining her perfect complexion.

“mhm.” 

“shh, i’ve got you.” the remaining length of the dildo manages to burrow comfortably in your cunt, due to your sopping arousal leaking out, sticking to rosé’s thighs when she picks up her pace as she continues to thrust deeper into you. 

suddenly, it doesn’t feel so bad - not like you imagined when you saw the large toy in front of your eyes. 

in fact, it feels fucking fantastic. rosé knows how to move her body, she’s a dancer too, of course, but the pleasure seems to increase the more her hips move, or the more she pounds, stretching your tight walls. 

your mouth hangs open, the bed shakes, rosé’s eyes look just as striking as they did outside the nightclub, even with the glint in her doey orbs, and an overwhelming feeling of fullness enters your mind.  _ she’s too skilled to even be real.  _

“ah! mh, feels good.” you mutter into rosé’s ear, seeing how red it turns when you moan unashamed. “harder.”

rosé smirking is a sight you never knew you needed to see. until now. she grabs your legs, pulling them even closer to her, for leverage, and drills the dildo into your core until the only sounds penetrating the dark room are your heavenly mewls, the schleching of your wetness as a result of the toy ramming quickly between your walls, and rosé’s incredibly attractive grunting. 

“i’ll go as hard as you want.” 

you severely dislike the sensation that builds up when you zone out and realize just what you’re doing exactly; getting railed by blackpink’s rosé in the safespace of her own home, of her own  _ bedroom,  _ while she somehow manages to make you feel hot and protected at the same time _. _

you’re not the one for intimacy, in fact, you rarely think about it in the moment. you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about it right  _ now _ .

but with rosé,  _ always _ with rosé, you fear there may be a difference. and you’re scared that it doesn’t frighten you as much as it really should. how her eyebrows are drooped slightly, concentrated on pleasuring you, or how her warm hands clutch your waist possessively, not daring to let you go. 

“shit..” like the previous sensation that builds up, a burning, more electrifying intensity comes along, ready to demolish all desire that rosé has implemented in you over your sextivities. “rosé, i think i’m gonna cum.”

“you’re such a pretty girl.” rosé whispers huskily in your ear, not only are shivers sent down your spine, but also the paced beating of your heart is heard in every aspect of your body. “i’m so happy you let me ruin you, my pretty girl.”

you don’t know what she’s trying to do, perhaps trying to aid you to the end, stimulating you so that you are closer to finish. and you hate to admit it, but it works so effectively you feel like you’re under a spell. perhaps rosé put one on you, to control, to monitor. she immediately made you hers in all the obscure ways. 

your climax was a peak that you were so desperate to reach, rosé ravaging you, biting on your neck, holding you too close for just a hookup, she was there to bring you to new beginnings. to new beginnings, she most surely approved.

and maybe this is what pushes you off the edge, what spills you over and turns you into sticky, vulnerable mush that trembles under rosé. with open arms, she is there to catch you. your savior of the night. 

“rosé-” your cries are devoured by the angel above you, riding out your release. you find it ironic how her lips can taste like  _ rosé _ , exploring her mouth deeper as your whines and whimpers cease to be nothing more than heavy breathing. gently, rosé pulls out, she isn’t even embarrassed when the shimmer of your arousal coats most of her legs, you take it that she’s experienced in these sorts of things. 

“you did so well.” she praises you when your lips leave each other with a simple ‘pop.’ you deserve it, after taking all of that huge strap on, which rosé now discards in the corner of her bed, in your small cunt. “i’m so proud of you.”

still in your state of euphoria, you can just about give a tiny beam to the woman in front of you, she inches forward innocently as if she didn’t send you to the moon and back. the duality of roseanne park, certainly. 

“call me sometime.” rosé’s lopsided grin breaks you out of your dazed trance, your blissful orgasm fading away. all you see is blonde, a sea of blonde, and a bright smile that reminded you of how you got here in the first place. “you know, after i just gave you the best fuck of your life.”

rosé never fails to make you laugh in the short span of the endless night that you’ve been with her. you could get used to it. 

“maybe i will.’ you grin as well in response. “i’m y/n, by the way. thanks for breaking my back.” 

rosé runs her defty fingers through your mussed hair, lightly scratching your sensitive scalp, and you can’t help but think how domestic you two might seem, with rosé’s glow and your half-asleep conscious, lying together in her bed. 

“anytime, y/n.” 


End file.
